


Echoes; Even Still

by lisswrites



Series: You Grow On Me, (Like a vine) [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 21:22:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4321233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisswrites/pseuds/lisswrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because abuse casts a shadow, long and dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echoes; Even Still

Glenn came back from a scouting mission clutching his baseball cap in his hands, whooping, hollering, a smile threatening to cleave his face clear in half.

Carol shook her head slightly at his antics, but the gesture was more emblematic of her fondness for the scrawny boy than anything else. He’s prattling on about Georgia and farmers and then he’s tipping the brim of his hat just so, revealing the contents weighing down his cap.

She slaps a hand over her mouth, laughs through the slats of her fingers.

Eggs. 

All huddled up in Glenn’s sweat-stained baseball cap, but eggs just the same.

Rick had charged her with cooking ‘em, said she was even better with a frying pan than Daryl was with a bow. A scoff cuts Rick off at that, more gravel than actual words, and Carol has to bite the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. 

There’s more surety in her grip as the scrambled eggs slide onto their ragtag plates, she finds that holding the cast iron skillets not as bad as it used to be. Reckons that her muscles must be hardening up alongside everything else. She’s stronger. 

“Weak!” Ed’s hand is a vice on her wrist again, like before, and it’s so real she’s gasping, losing her grip, bit by bit, until the remaining portion of the eggs spills onto the dirt by Daryl’s feet.

He draws up to full height in a flash, “Hey there! Easy, girl!" 

Carol’s eyes are glassy, face flushed,"I’m sorry- I didn’t-I did-" 

She’s ruined it, and she’s instinctively bracing herself for a blow, cheek screwed up just a bit in trepidation. 

Daryl can practically feel ten sets of eyes boring holes into her back, all of 'em waiting with bated breath like she’s some segment from a fucking soap opera. The line of his spine is softer when he turns to her, but his gaze is all flint and granite when he turns his head to regard the group.

He’s barely holding himself in check, wildfire licking him at the edges. He doesn’t say a word to any of 'em, figures his body radiates get the fuck out well enough. 

Daryl’s never really been good at comforting, his hands hovering, twitching, never quite landing. They finally find purchase on the pan’s handle, gently prying off her white knuckles.

Carol falls into him at the contact, her shoulders shaking intermittently against his chest. He never really noticed how slight Carol’s frame was before this, how petite she was- how well she fit under his arm.

He doesn’t say anything, just lays a cheek against the soft crown of her hair. 

It’s enough.


End file.
